Are you a dog person or a cat person? A false choice presented by people who not only prefer one species but feel a certain superiority for having done so. I am both. Equally and unapologetically. And of course, I am right. There are differences between dogs and cats, at least generally, and most folks agree on them. Dogs are emotionally needier. (I will counter my own point soon when I introduce you to George the clingy emerald-eyed tabby.) Dogs are more eager to please. Cats are less concerned about that. And dogs are incapable of subtlety. They leap and do zoomies and dive on their toys when they’re happy to see you, feel pathetically forlorn when you leave, and are cloaked in enthusiasm about…everything. Dog people excuse their canine companions’ lack of manners by chalking it up to their joie de vivre.
Cats, on the other hand, have a reputation for independence, aloofness, superiority complex-ish-ness, and in-charge-y ways. While those are true of many cats, they do not describe this feline world completely. Nor is any one cat only those things. Not even close.
Back to George. George was born in my neighbor’s shed. So with no premeditation, one afternoon I had a kitten. He almost drowned in a fishtank his first few hours, and as he would prove repeatedly over the years, such behavior would become known as quintessential George. He got into everything. He locked himself in the pantry. Screamed when he jumped in the clothes hamper and the lid closed on him. Found himself stuck out on the balcony. And spent an entire night caught between the back door and the storm door when he snuck up next to me after I took out the garbage. He also spent four glorious days roaming around the Highlands neighborhood in Louisville, Kentucky when he climbed out a second-floor bathroom window and somehow made his way to the sidewalk via the downspout. He sustained himself on cicadas and goodness knows what else. How he survived, given his decision-making deficiencies, is beyond me.
We decided that George should not be a lone kitty. Enter Teddy. Teddy, a rescue kitten from the Shamrock Foundation, not only became George’s best friend, sparring partner, and sunbeam sharer, he became his savior. Teddy is the one who cried like crazy to notify us that George was stuck on the balcony. If George was mid-mischief, Teddy was on the case.
George was affectionate and bossy. He told us when it was bedtime and screamed until we’d go into the bedroom. He demanded that my husband throw him across the bed and onto the pillow, where he’d turn around, run to him, and meow until he’d throw him again. It was a game he loved to play. Teddy, our very blubbery blond kitty, was also affectionate, though less so than George. Much to our horror, he liked to jump from the balcony onto the roof, and his precision getting back onto the balcony through the slats, given his enormous size, was something to marvel at. There was also that one time he stole a scallop.
And they, just like dogs, followed us into the bathroom. Teddy stuck by George’s side for the rest of his life. Literally. He stayed no more than a few inches from him. And he was never the same when George died. Teddy missed him until he, himself, left us. That’s love. That’s bonding. That’s also being a cat.
Gracie. I know I’m biased, but Gracie is the sweetest little cat ever to live. She walked into our apartment in Franklin, Kentucky one evening ten years ago and decided to allow us to keep her. She is cuddly, not at all demanding, and spends her days watching the world go by from the front window, while avoiding being chased by our crazy puppy, Bella. At night, she purrs in my arms.
A friend of mine has a cat who likes to be vacuumed. Yes, it’s like a massage to him. He even rolls over to give access to his other side. Some cats sleep upside-down like a bat. Others, in a ball. Teddy ate so fast, he’d head over to George’s bowl when he was finished. Gracie eats so slowly, I have to block Bella the dog with my feet, so she can’t get near her during breakfast. All animals have their quirks.
Why am I sharing this? For one, in addition to us all having thousands of pictures of our pets in every position and doing even the most mundane things, cat people and dog people love talking about our cats and dogs. This is just one more platform on which I can do so. And people who love cats and dogs like listening to others’ stories about their cats and dogs (not because they actually like listening – in fact, they don’t and aren’t really paying attention – but because once those folks shut up, they can share about their own feline or canine companions, and in return, their stories can be nodded about yet secretly ignored).
I think it’s important that people understand cats are more than decorative table tchotchkes. Except for Gracie. She is, in fact, a decorative table tchotchke. But her aside, cats have wildly different personalities, give and appreciate love just as much as dogs (I’ve had dogs all my life, so that, I deem, qualifies me as an expert). And cats feel empathy, something we all could use a little more of. They feel fear, love, happiness, and loneliness, just as dogs do. And cats are really funny. They deserve our admiration. Well, at least cats think so.
Sarah Mackey Kirby 